Surf and turf.
May. 12th, 2005 11:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pecuniumYesterday I got up, and the first thing I did, after I put on PJs (I schlumpf about unless I have to go someplace... loose flannel trousers, in Black Watch plaid, bought at an outlet store when akirlu and libertango were helping me buy clothes after I got out of Walter Reed) and a selection of long tops, are the order of the day) was to work.
A roll of film's worth of digital shots of poppies, and I came back in to check the sourdough sponge from then night before. It was fine. Scalped a cup to go back in the fridge, fed the beast a bit more and went back outside.
The jonquils needed to be tied up. One of the disadvantages of beach living is the wind. It had shoved the poor flower stalk over, until it was flush with the ground, which seemed to defeat the purpose.
Jonquils are amazing flowers. I bought the bulbs (not trivial, even at CostCo. Not to break the bank, but four of them cost more than a dozen glads) because ofjonquil. I can see some resemblance. They are white, with traces of yellow, and hints of green. Simple, yet very busy. And sudden. The don't (so it seems) slowly open. Nope, one goes inside to eat a piece of toast, and when one comes out the long yellow bud has popped open, a tangle of white streamers and a deep cup with feathered edges. Amazing.
The poppies are going gangbusters, still. The annuals are starting to bloom, and the perennials are stil ablaze. Each one is a different shade of golden orange. The super saturated one I like best (which is in the worst place for some of the sorts of photos I want to take), the bi-colored yellow and orange, the less saturated variations, all in filigrees of green.
The onions are starting to bloom. White balls of fuzz on green stalks. Some are just phallic promises of blooms to come. Unlike the little stars of the native wild onions, these have no scent, just clusters of florets. The leeks have sent up the long, narrow stalks of their blooms (which heliotrope all day, on sinous cylinders (now I feel like Swinbourne). and a chive has thrust an imminent purple flower up. All I need to make the Alia complete is for the garlic and the shallots to bloom.
Maia bought four more half barrels. The barrel place has responded to public pressure and is cutting them higher now, so one now gets either a 3/5ths, or a 2/5ths, cut. A bit of screen to mask the bung, and I can add four more inches of dirt. Tomatoes go into pots next week, as well as the chardonnay.
Spent time this evening, after the farmers market (more strawberry jam to make on the morrow) mixing soil in the hole I dug to plant the Ancho. They came free of the potting mix in the six pack very nicely, so I ought to see some fruit on them in a week or so (they all have buds, and a couple have blossoms.
The only other news of note, on the growing things list, is in the kitchen.
Maia got some of her mother's starter. I may have mentioned it before. This is the "Starter Which Will Not Die". Her mother excercizes it, at most, once; or twice, a year. It doesn't care. She gave some to Barry, his fridge got really cold, cold enough to put ice crystals in the starter. It didn't care.
So we have some. I decided I wanted to make a dry starter from it, because there is some indication this makes for a more sour flavor. So we fed it, split off a second starter, and put them both in the fridge.
Where they sat for three, maybe four, months, unused.
On Tuesday night I took my version out, and fed it, made bread with it.
This morning I had some for breakfast. It wasn't as sour as I wanted. So I am trying something. I took a teaspoon from the mother I worked on Tues., and added it to some flour and water. This I put in a cool place (a cupboard in the garage) so it could slowly grow. It's bubbling. Not much, but there wasn't all that much to start with. I'll look in on it before I retire, and then in the morning. If it's zipping along by then, I may make bread with it tomorrow. Otherwise I'll bring it into the kitchen, take the saran wrap off and let the local air settle on it.
I've been baking enough that I ought to have a favorable kitchen (it's said that regular baking makes the environment more conducive to breadmaking, because there is more airborne yeast). If this works I may make a new starter, perhaps (if it works) with a bit of pate fermente from the coming experiment with yeast from live bottled beer.
I fear I may be starting to obsess. I bought some vital gluten today, in the hope of being able to get a more lofty crumb.
Just for levity's sake
I didn't cheat.
Same people said I was Ireland too.
akirlu and libertango were helping me buy clothes after I got out of Walter Reed) and a selection of long tops, are the order of the day) was to work.A roll of film's worth of digital shots of poppies, and I came back in to check the sourdough sponge from then night before. It was fine. Scalped a cup to go back in the fridge, fed the beast a bit more and went back outside.
The jonquils needed to be tied up. One of the disadvantages of beach living is the wind. It had shoved the poor flower stalk over, until it was flush with the ground, which seemed to defeat the purpose.
Jonquils are amazing flowers. I bought the bulbs (not trivial, even at CostCo. Not to break the bank, but four of them cost more than a dozen glads) because of
jonquil. I can see some resemblance. They are white, with traces of yellow, and hints of green. Simple, yet very busy. And sudden. The don't (so it seems) slowly open. Nope, one goes inside to eat a piece of toast, and when one comes out the long yellow bud has popped open, a tangle of white streamers and a deep cup with feathered edges. Amazing.The poppies are going gangbusters, still. The annuals are starting to bloom, and the perennials are stil ablaze. Each one is a different shade of golden orange. The super saturated one I like best (which is in the worst place for some of the sorts of photos I want to take), the bi-colored yellow and orange, the less saturated variations, all in filigrees of green.
The onions are starting to bloom. White balls of fuzz on green stalks. Some are just phallic promises of blooms to come. Unlike the little stars of the native wild onions, these have no scent, just clusters of florets. The leeks have sent up the long, narrow stalks of their blooms (which heliotrope all day, on sinous cylinders (now I feel like Swinbourne). and a chive has thrust an imminent purple flower up. All I need to make the Alia complete is for the garlic and the shallots to bloom.
Maia bought four more half barrels. The barrel place has responded to public pressure and is cutting them higher now, so one now gets either a 3/5ths, or a 2/5ths, cut. A bit of screen to mask the bung, and I can add four more inches of dirt. Tomatoes go into pots next week, as well as the chardonnay.
Spent time this evening, after the farmers market (more strawberry jam to make on the morrow) mixing soil in the hole I dug to plant the Ancho. They came free of the potting mix in the six pack very nicely, so I ought to see some fruit on them in a week or so (they all have buds, and a couple have blossoms.
The only other news of note, on the growing things list, is in the kitchen.
Maia got some of her mother's starter. I may have mentioned it before. This is the "Starter Which Will Not Die". Her mother excercizes it, at most, once; or twice, a year. It doesn't care. She gave some to Barry, his fridge got really cold, cold enough to put ice crystals in the starter. It didn't care.
So we have some. I decided I wanted to make a dry starter from it, because there is some indication this makes for a more sour flavor. So we fed it, split off a second starter, and put them both in the fridge.
Where they sat for three, maybe four, months, unused.
On Tuesday night I took my version out, and fed it, made bread with it.
This morning I had some for breakfast. It wasn't as sour as I wanted. So I am trying something. I took a teaspoon from the mother I worked on Tues., and added it to some flour and water. This I put in a cool place (a cupboard in the garage) so it could slowly grow. It's bubbling. Not much, but there wasn't all that much to start with. I'll look in on it before I retire, and then in the morning. If it's zipping along by then, I may make bread with it tomorrow. Otherwise I'll bring it into the kitchen, take the saran wrap off and let the local air settle on it.
I've been baking enough that I ought to have a favorable kitchen (it's said that regular baking makes the environment more conducive to breadmaking, because there is more airborne yeast). If this works I may make a new starter, perhaps (if it works) with a bit of pate fermente from the coming experiment with yeast from live bottled beer.
I fear I may be starting to obsess. I bought some vital gluten today, in the hope of being able to get a more lofty crumb.
Just for levity's sake
You're California!
In many ways, you are larger than life and almost defy description. You
certainly love to shake, rattle, and roll with the best of them. You have a generally
sunny disposition; capable of resorting to harsh extremes when pressed. You are
more likely than most to become rich, or famous, or both. While you have the
golden touch in so many regards, your respect for actors is a little over-zealous. This
endless faith in actors needs to be terminated.
Take the State Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
I didn't cheat.
Same people said I was Ireland too.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-05-13 01:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-13 02:40 pm (UTC)I originally chose the pseud 'jonquil' because they're naturalized in the South; at the time, I was trying to follow suit. It didn't take.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-13 04:28 pm (UTC)It's a name. I'm not hiding behind it, just using a different one than my birth certificate shows, or my family uses, or some of my friends have for me.
But then I have, and have had, many names in my life.
Terry
Murphy
Private/Specialist/Sergeant/Staff Sergeant (in the Army the last is funny, the default is, "sergeant" though at times I may elect to assert the extra authority the higher rank gives me. My Drill Sergeant said it best, "I am Staff Sergeant Gibson, you will call me Sergeant, you will not call me Drill Sergeant, that is my job, not my rank. If you wish to be formal you may call me Staff Sergeant, I do not recommend it." He went on for a few more moments with items only of value to recruits, and war stories. In the Marine Corps I am Staff Sergeant (which is one of the ways I can spot a Marine who came over to the Army) and it has a different feel, just a tad more deferential, but possessed of greater responsibilties).
Grandpa
Karney
Maria (specialised teaching role. Lots of fun. I like being a termagant. The sense of wonder on the face of the student when I stay completely in role as a female floors 'em)
Pecunium
Names are potent. As Freff said, hiding your "true name" is a loss of power, because it keeps some of "you" in check.
So screen name is not, to my mind, a pseudonym. It's a way of sorting out the people I read. There is person behind it, where a pseudonym is just a name on a dust jacket.
TK
no subject
Date: 2005-05-13 04:31 pm (UTC)I still miss bougainvillea terribly - and palm trees. God, how I miss palm trees. And peonies (all flowers here, actually) are a fleeting joy, because the growing season is so short, compared to Los Angeles. I've become less attached to things since living here, since the weather means nothing lasts as long.
Except rain. That seems to last.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-13 07:51 pm (UTC)Maia has some lilac at her folks place. It gets some sort of mildew, or rust, every years, but carries on just the same.
I don't know if I miss palms. They are ubiquitous, and I've not lived anywhere without them, just been away fro mhome for a bit.
Bougainvilla, you can have, though at a remove it can be stunning, and I prefer it to oleander as a decorative roadside shrub.
TK